


Beacon in the Cold

by renegadejaybird (vitious)



Series: Subtle Flavors [2]
Category: Red Hood and the Outlaws, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-29
Updated: 2012-11-29
Packaged: 2017-11-19 19:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitious/pseuds/renegadejaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason was never going out in the snow again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beacon in the Cold

If they didn’t get hypothermia and freeze to death, Jason swore that he would never go near another snowy, mountainous region ever again.  Never mind that he’d run into Red Robin during said excursion and, due to their conflicting data and lack of knowledge of the situation, they’d both nearly gotten each other killed.  Unfortunately that left him trudging through the snow with a comatose and bleeding Tim Drake draped over his snow as he struggled to locate one of his more obscure safe houses in blizzard conditions and steadily plummeting temperatures.

Finally the cabin came into view, causing Jason to let out a gusting sigh of relief and put in a last burst of energy, doing his best to run through the heavy snow; Tim really hadn’t prepared himself for the chill like he had.  He couldn’t really blame him, not when it should have been a simple in and out mission and not practically a scene from a bad action flick leaving them both stranded without shelter or vehicles.  However Jason was always prepared for getting screwed over, thus leaving him to be the one that came out of the encounter only a little worse for wear. 

When he got to the door he quickly disabled the hidden alarms and unlocked it with only a little bit of awkward shifting and fumbling.  He slipped inside, kicking the door shut and quickly reinstating the alarms and bolting the door, heading immediately for the old, ragged couch, depositing the other man on it immediately.  Jason pushed the cowl back from his face, eyes hooding in concern when he noticed how cold the other man was; blood loss and extreme temperatures didn’t tend to mix very well.

Shaking his head, Jason quickly moved to disable the safeties and little traps built into the Red Robin suit, stripping him quickly and efficiently.  He then wrapped him in a fur lined blanket, one he’d gotten from nearby trappers years ago, hoping to get him warm while he started a fire and fetched a first aid kit.  That done he ruffled the younger man’s snow-soaked hair and headed to where he kept his supplies, retrieving everything he’d need to stitch him up, pausing as he reached for sterile needles.

It was strange, the fact that he wasn’t even hesitating to help his old ‘family’ anymore.  When he’d seen the other man go down, he hadn’t even hesitated, immediately moving to defend him and analyzing ways to get away.  Perhaps he was becoming soft, working with a team did that to a person, or perhaps… Jason’s mind wandered to the night that he’d let Tim into his safe house, let him talk, offered him shelter from the chill, Gotham air.  However he quickly pushed such thoughts aside, moving back into the living room and setting his supplies on the woven rug in front of the couch.  

He was in the middle of tossing logs into the fireplace, to prepare a fire, when he heard a sucked in breath, a pained sound, and rustling, telling him Tim had most likely regained consciousness.  Glancing back, he lifted a brow at the dazed, blue eyes that stared at him, noting that the other man’s brows were knit in pain.  Shaking his head he moved over, offering him a water bottle and some pain killers, lifting, resisting the urge to smooth his hair back from his eyes.

“…Where are we?” Tim questioned after downing the medication.

“Safe house of mine.  Dragged your ass here after you took that nasty blow.  You passed out about halfway.  You not been sleeping, baby bird?” Jason answered, turning to finish piling wood in the fireplace, lighting some tinder and tossing it in alongside it.

“Did you…?”

Of course Tim would ask that.  Of course. “Base blew up.  I decided to retreat after that hit, don’t know how many the blast took.”

“So we failed.”

Jason rolled his eyes and shed his jacket, hanging it on a hook next to the fireplace to dry.  “Whatever.  Doesn’t matter.  Lie your ass down and rest.  Pretty sure you’re concussed.” 

Tim hissed, causing the other man’s head to whip around, eyes narrow as he watched him sit up and shiver, the blanket slipping from his shoulders, revealing a nasty gash in his arm.  Blood was dried in his hair where the butt of a rifle at impacted with his skull; he’d probably need stitches there too.  Jason walked over, gripping the other man’s chin hard with thumb and forefinger, turning his head a little and leaning in, gently analyzing the head wound; it was nasty, but it wouldn’t need stitches. 

“Jason.”

He let out a soft grunt in response, releasing him before turning his head to lock gazes with him. “Lay down.  You can’t do anything right now.  It’s blizzarding out there.”

“I… Um.  Thank you.” Tim answered, glancing aside, a hint of color rising in his cheeks.

“Don’t thank me yet, I haven’t stitched you up.”

His comment resulted in a ghost of a smile, causing his lips to quirk a little in response as he pulled away to retrieve more bottled water and some tea leaves.  He filled his old, iron kettle and hung it over the fire, moving back over to Tim’s side and beginning to wipe away the blood from his hair and arm with a cloth soaked in alcohol.  Other than a few soft hisses, the younger man didn’t make any noise or attempt further conversation and Jason didn’t attempt to break the silence.  From what he knew of Tim, it was that he needed to stew over events in his head, analyze his failures, run over what went wrong for a bit before he said anything, if then.  Unlike himself and Dick, Tim wasn’t chatty, never had been, and Jason wasn’t about to force him to be.

Tim finally spoke up when Jason finished stitching his arm and was disposing of the dirty supplies. “You really like tea, huh?”

It was an unexpected question, causing Jason to look up and arch a brow before shrugging. “…Yeah.  Never been a fan of coffee.  Bad memories and all that.”

“…Oh.”

There’s silence again, an awkward one, one that’s interrupted by the whistling of the kettle.  Mentally heaving a relieved sigh, Jason moved to take the kettle off the fire, setting it on a ceramic plate that was there for that very purpose.  Cloth rag still in his hand, he carefully removed the lid and slipped the infuser inside, immediately relaxing at the woodsy smell of the tea mixed with that of the fire; perfect. 

“Um, Jason… Aren’t you cold?  Your clothes are still wet.” Tim’s question is soft, a little slurred.

Shit.  He’d forgotten for a bit, but now that the other man mentioned it, yeah, he was cold. “Forgot to change out of these I guess.”

Jason moved to sit on the floor in front of the couch, unlacing his boots and tossing them carelessly aside.  Next went the socks which were soggy, causing him to grimace as he tossed them aside as well; he’d worn heavier clothing, but that didn’t mean he’d been ready for a blizzard.  Next went the wool shirt and his kevlar undershirt, also tossed carelessly aside, but he hesitated at his pants, glancing back at Tim who was staring at him with heavy-lidded eyes, half awake and shivering less.

“What?” he asked after a long moment, frowning.

Tim shook his head and burrowed down into the blankets further, mumbling a soft apology, and Jason couldn’t tell if the heat in his cheeks was due to the cold or if he was blushing.  Rolling his eyes, Jason removed his belt and thigh holster, along with the pants he wore over his Kevlar leggings.  Oddly, those weren’t too damp, something that he was thankful for as he didn’t really have anything else to wear and he wasn’t about to run around naked in a cold ass cabin.

Surprisingly the other man was still awake when Jason moved to go pour the tea, those blue eyes watching him intently.  He even reached out to take the mug Jason offered him without prompting, sitting up a little, slowly, so that he could take a sip.  Jason watched his reaction to the strong, black tea, noting his momentary confusion, then the intrigue as he took another sip.  

“Lapsang Souchong.” Jason provides, watching the way Tim’s eyes snap up to him, startles. “That’s what it’s called.  If you wanted to know.”

“It’s good.” Tim answered softly before he began to shift, moving to a sitting position.

“Lay your ass back—”

“Shut up.”

Jason’s about to protest further when Tim slides off the couch to sit on the floor next to him, dragging the blanket with him.  Using his good arm, the younger man drapes said blanket around Jason’s shoulder and shivers a little leaning against his side.  Meanwhile, the other vigilante is completely taken off guard, his eyes wide as he stares at the man next to him, completely rigid as he tries to figure out what to do.  Finally he shakes his head and moves to pull the blanket around them both, trying very hard to ignore Tim’s nudity as he makes sure the rather large blanket is wrapped completely around them.

“That was stupid.” Jason finally murmured, watching the man next to him take another sip of tea, reluctant to admit that he was more than happy to indulge in Tim’s body heat.

“You were shivering.” Tim murmured, his eyes on the fire, apparently too tired, cold, and concussed to care that he was practically nestled against Jason’s side.

Has he been shivering?  He hadn’t really noticed. “Yeah, well, you’re the one all fucked up.”

“Mm…”

Jason glanced over, noticing the younger man’s eyes fluttering shut, and took the liberty to gently slip the half-full mug of tea from his fingers, setting it aside.  Tim looked terrible, his face pale and dark circles under his eyes and, as his face slowly relaxed, his breathing evening, he looked terribly young and fragile.  Heaving a sigh, Jason shifted a little, moving to slide an arm around the smaller man, tucking him against his side as he watched the fire flicker.  

He’d be lying if he said he was an honest man, but one person that he didn’t lie to was himself, and he had to admit that he might just have a small soft spot for Tim.  Out of any of the members of their dysfunctional family, he’d been the one that had hesitantly made efforts to welcome him back into the fold, albeit gingerly.  Of all of them, Tim was the one that put forth all the effort so he supposed, maybe, just maybe, he was okay with him being the chink in his armor.  After all, he supposed, someone had to be.


End file.
